


Chronicles of The Libertide and His Crew

by Guardianite



Category: Flight Rising
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-02-04 14:37:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18606538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guardianite/pseuds/Guardianite
Summary: A vessel of famed fables and history couldn't be without its crew. The Libertide became the home of many different souls over time but the most iconic eight have stuck with him through all the stormy seas and peaceful sailing and have their chronicles stored here.





	1. The Ancient Mariner

**Author's Note:**

> You'll notice a familiar trend with the music that inspired these dragons :)

> An old man by a seashore  
>  At the end of day  
>  Gazes the horizon  
>  With seawinds in his face.
> 
> Tempest-tossed island  
>  Seasons all the same  
>  Anchorage unpainted  
>  And a ship without a name”
> 
> **The Islander; Nightwish.**

The wind slapped the face of the sleek hatchling. They darted back in surprise and hid behind the legs of their elder who gave a hearty laugh. A curiously annoyed look met the eyes of the much larger role model.

“Why did the wind do that to me, _farth’ar_?” The infant wailed and pouted. The elder lowered its large neck until their snout met that of its Charge.

“Windsinger’s Work.” Was all it replied.

It then lifted its finned head back up to face the vast young ocean in front of them. “One day” the elder would tell them and the siblings of their large union. “You will all travel across this ocean to lands newly claimed. Continents forged and tended to by the elements of Gods themselves. The ones who saved us from the Great Darkness and gave us life.” It paused. “No more will we fight against our own elemental brethren. You will all bring forth generations of unity.” It stood its head up sternly. “You will embark on a Search, and from this search you will find your Charge. It is your purpose to protect this Charge until your life-force joins the Tidelord once more.”

The day came when at last the wingless giant dipped into the murky waters of the Tidelord’s domain and disintegrated. The proto-Guardian had done its duty. Evolution had brought forth its legacy.

The young Guardians stumbled around confusingly. Several had followed suit to their predecessor and dove into the sea. Others scrambled along the coast of the newly Plague-tainted barren wasteland or slithered into the dark shadows. The daring ones spread the wings gifted to them from the Gods and soared upwards and beyond into the glowing horizon. All but one remained.

And he was already dreaming of his breathtaking ship.


	2. Lungwort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was expected to be a typical morning for royal rebel "Lungwort" became the day that defined her true purpose.

> This is me for forever  
>  One of the lost ones  
>  The one without a name  
>  Without an honest heart as compass  
> 
> 
> **Nemo; Nightwish.**

“Do get your elbows of the table darling.” From the opposite end of the hardy oak table came the commanding voice. In response the nameless Nocturne huffed and pouted, crossing her arms over into her chest. As she continued to fidget at the supper she began to pick at some small pebble-like stones embedded on the back of her hands.

“DARLING.” Another boom from the stern figure. With an annoyed huff they left their seat and marched over to the young one, grabbing them upwards by a strand of their long silky hair with a surprised yelp and whispering harshly. “Do you even know how much dedication and selective breeding our ancestors endured to ensure you such a perfectly manageable and natural Gembond? You’re always such a little misfit!” The unruly one snarled back in response. “Any more of this attitude and I myself shall ensure Plaguebringer gives you enough boils to pick from your burned skin to last eternity!” The Nocturne yelped as the bigger dragon let go of them and obediently fell back into her chair. A satisfied sigh and look of embarrassment to the audience and they returned to their seat.

“I apologize on her behalf.” Said the older dragon apologetically. “She...is just in that rebellious phase of her life. She will grow out of it.”

 

The teenage Nocturne sprung up suddenly from their nap. Torn cardboard and itchy canvas sacks in the rugged crews deck didn’t make the comfiest of beds and it started to prove itself true with a quick crack of their neck back into place. They yawned. “Fuuuuuuuck.”

The drunken scent of sea water and sewage had intoxicated the Nocturne. A small unnamed port on a tiny island somewhere on the ocean around the Viridian Labyrinth had become a major hub for all kinds of shady business. Whether it was illegal smugglers or genuine entrepreneurs attempting to avoid tax on their goods, all and anything could make profit on that bandits paradise of whiskey and whores. Yet the dragon who named herself Lungwort was still not satisfied with her escape from whatever the hell was her upbringing. So when that cocky Coatl captain careened into the Wildvine Pub and drank enough booze to ground the Windsinger, Lungwort decided to hitch a little space on their ship. Except she was found but hey, they were cool with it and she soon began making a name for herself plundering, drinking and generally being a nuisance on the seas alongside this tiny band of misfits.

Except today wasn’t going to be like that. Lungwort’s weary eyes quickly widened as a cannon boy burst into the quarters terrified. “VESSEL SPOTTED! All hands on deck and ready to fend off attacking ship!”

Like a flock of pheasants in the morning woods the crew reacted quickly and confusingly to the sudden war cries of cannons above them shattering what was once a typical awakening. As they emerged onto deck, an older Wildclaw turned and then stared blankly into the horizon. Lungwort worriedly tried to snap them out of it. “Oh ye Gods.” They uttered. When Lungwort got her first glimpse of the massive beast of an armed vessel, she knew exactly what they were feeling. She knew there was no chance this ship could survive a sea battle with Him. What she didn’t know was that she was also staring at her fate and her future as she armed herself with her bow and cutlass.

“ _Libertide_.” Both the dragons whispered in a unison of awe and downright fear. The fire of cannons announced the end for many and the new beginning of only one.


	3. Todwell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An adventurer in The Shrieking Wilds finds themselves in new company after a strange experience.

> Leave the sleep and let the springtime talk  
>  In tongues from the time before man  
>  Listen to a daffodil tell her tale  
>  Let the guest in, walk out, be the first to greet the morn
> 
> **Nightwish; “Elan”**

They say you should spend your youth travelling the world on exciting adventures before settling down and making more memories with family and close friends. For a certain teenage Tundra though - fresh from his recent trek into a superstitious cave system somewhere in the back o’ beyond of The Shrieking Wilds and navy fur caked in some sort of algae - that advice was futile. Perched on a creaky bed in his rented lodging, he furiously crossed off a circled area of the weathered map with a grin. Underneath the scent of vanilla and smokey wood the Tundra then continued on and bathed, planned his next journey to the Sunbeam Ruins before finally calling it a night and falling onto the worn mattress with a thump.

Todwell scratched his head and twitched his brow. It was Gladekeeper knows how long past the midnight hour, but he woke up suddenly in an uncomfortable position and a feeling of dread washed over him like the drowning salt waters of a riptide. He had bolted up panting, before stumbling over to light a candle with a shaky hand. He could’ve sworn he heard someone right there in the room with him. In the dimly lit room he saw...nothing. His young brow furrowed. He was being silly, nothing was there and he was riling himself up for just that. Absolutely nothing.

He went back to sleep for four glorious hours.

In the morning Todwell quickly wolfed down his breakfast of fried shrimp and mustard, thanked his lodgers for sharing their home and sprinted off towards the port. He’d had unusual experiences in the past - like that time at the Wyrmwound when he must’ve had one too many mushrooms and sworn he’d saw the Windsinger shove the Plaguebringer into the bubbling stew of sickness - but this time for once in his life he felt relieved to be leaving a landmark he'd mapped behind. There was something to do with those caves he visited. More specifically, the algae that slithered along the walls and the floor around him. He had taken his guide to the side and questioned them on the algae touching his fur. “Don’t worry,” They had reassured. “It’ll come off with some vigorous washing.”

Yet even now some twelve hours later it was still there. Todwell felt no discomfort from the scum itself, just the presence of it being there felt...wrong. As he travelled onwards, he could’ve sworn he could hear whispers coming from the streams running beside him. Over and over again. Yet when he turned around, there was nothing to be seen anywhere but the young leaves on the aged oak trees mocking him from above. By the time he arrived at port he felt light-headed and stumbled towards the horizon where he heard the waves...and the whispering pounding louder and louder at the front of his head.

He fell downwards only to feel the sudden shift in gravity of something pulling him back upwards. He felt the jabs of stone against his shoulder as a Nocturne lifted him back onto his feet. “Yah alright there mate?” They asked innocently enough. Todwell took a moment to find his bearings before unwittingly shouting out “The algae is speaking to me!” in his state of confusion. Most of the other beings around the port paused for a moment to peer at the scene before rolling their eyes and resuming their work. Another morning drunk, they assumed. All except for two; the Nocturne who’d caught him, and a Guardian he’d never even realised was behind them. This gigantic mariner was looking directly into his soul. Todwell shivered in the Nocturne’s arms.

Then they spoke. A deep, riling voice of age and experience. “Let us talk over food and drink. We have much to discuss.”


End file.
